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Ella Wheeler Wilcox (Элла Уилкокс) In England In England, there are wrongs no doubt, Which should be righted; so men say, Who seek to weed earth's garden out, And give the roses right of way; Yes, right of way, to fruit and rose, Where now but poison ivy grows. In England, there is wide unrest, They tell me who should know; and yet I saw but hedges, gayly dressed, And eyes where love and kindness met; Yes, love and kindness, met and made Soft sunshine even in the shade. In England, there are haunting things Which follow one to other lands; Like some pervading scent that clings To laces touched by vanished hands; Yes, touched by vanished hands, which made A fragrance that defies the grave. In England, centuries of art Give common things a mellow tone; And wake old memories in the heart Of other lives the soul has known; Yes, other lives in some past age Start forth from canvas, and from page. In England, there are simple joys, The modern world has left all sweet; In London's heart, are nooks where noise Has entered but with slippered feet; Yes, entered softly. Friend, believe, To part from England is to grieve. Ella Wheeler Wilcox's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1201 |
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